A.N. Thank you to xLittleBlackStarzx, silverwolfneko-chan, and Noutchka for your kind reviews. They mean a lot to me.

Now, on with the show!

Face rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, clearing them free from tiredness and memory, sighing in the sepia light of the temporary shelter they had erected in a enclosed alcove out of the back of their transport vehicle. It worked relatively well, considering how little time it had taken to set up; their large tent tethered to the GMC's tailgate and back-doors and spreading out behind it. It wasn't the most comfortable of set-ups, but they had all thought this would be a quick assignment; in, out, two days tops. That's what Hannibal had said when they took the job. Security options were minimal for guarding the surrounding area, and they would take turns on night watch. There was always straw-drawing to see who would sleep in the back-seat of the car; there not being enough room in the tent, what with the beds and the space taken up by their equipment. Most of their supplies were cached around the countryside in certain areas, abandoned farms or with people who supplied them, but they'd had to bring the essentials- food, survival gear, guns, and anything else they might need to storm a small military base. This time, Murdock had picked the short straw, but as usual, never seemed that bothered, the pilot having the natural talent of being able to sleep anywhere with only his usual red cap over his eyes, even on occasion the cockpit of the recent air vehicles they had 'commandeered' (by that, they usually meant stolen or borrowed without permission)

They all had gotten used to living uncomfortably sometimes over the years they had spent based in Iraq and being on the run meant they fared no better. Being fugitives had meant doing without some of the luxuries they had gotten used to. They never stayed any one place for longer than a few days between jobs, moving around to where they were needed while trying to avoid detection from the CIA and the new 'Lynch', whose tracking abilities, it seemed, seemed far more ruthless and superior than his predecessor. He was good, that even Hannibal had admitted, and they always had to stay one level ahead of the game if they were to outwit him. None of them had much of a wish to be imprisoned again. Six months had been ample time inside, and although each had found their own ways of surviving- whether it was Hannibal planning as he usually did, Face making a name for himself as the go-to man inside, BA trying to find something to fill the long hours or Murdock losing himself in the safety of the collected madness of his fellow 'inmates' -, none of them wanted to go back any time soon. So if roughing it sometimes was the other option, they would all take it without complaint.

They didn't have to survive on a totally minimal existence; the payment from some of their jobs more than helped to supply them with weapons and vehicles and necessities, and all of them had been in service long enough to not count comfy beds and an active social life as things of importance. That being said, sometimes when they managed to put the CIA off their tail- Hannibal considered that the searching would die down the longer they were in hiding-, drawing the officers completely in the wrong direction, Hannibal would give them the go ahead for them all to stay in a nice resort for a while. Nothing too high-key and for no more than a couple of days, but it gave them all the time to wind down. Sometimes when options were short, it was just a small motel to lay their head down for a few days- Hannibal paying the shady-looking innkeepers enough to keep their mouths shut about the four of them being there- but even that was better than nothing, and it gave time for them all to have some of their own space for a while, with no paranoid fear or flicking round every time a door slammed or someone shouted. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a few wanted men to be able to breathe easy for a short while and if there was one thing Face could say about Hannibal Smith, it was that he looked after his team.

It's my responsibility, now.

Face sighed again , collecting himself for a moment before gazing up across the table at his two comrades. He'd seen enough action with both to know the subtleties of their moods quite well, knowing the nuances of their emotions from one look at their posture or expression, and he could see the state of turmoil both were currently occupying, thoughts of Hannibal weighing heavy on their already burdened shoulders, as it was weighing on his own. He wouldn't have expected any different. Hannibal was their leader, their friend, and Face knew that in some ways he was a father figure to them all. Not that Face considered Hannibal in any way a surrogate dad to him; the idea was all a bit Saturday-morning drama for him, and they'd both been through too much to be building up that idea. It was just that it felt like Hannibal was the dad of their family sometimes (Murdock had affectionately called BA the mother of their group once, but the sergeant hadn't taken it well, glaring at the pilot and threatening to kill him-again- and it had called upon Murdock to make his coconut curry tapenade (with added toast points) to be forgiven for his slight) , the way he advised them all and watched over them , in the way a colonel watches over his team, and some of these things helped fill the 'parent-sized' hole in Face's life that he'd always thought he'd never fill.

They'd all had pretty poor father's as things went- Bosco had never known his father, being raised by his mother- who , when Face had met her, seemed the sort of formidable woman that could tell a fully grown BA off for not keeping her kitchen tidy, despite her relative smallness compared to her son. Face had liked her immediately, grinning as the old woman told four wanted 'criminals' in a no nonsense voice to 'wipe their feet when they came in the door', because if there was any mud on her carpet there'd be trouble. He could see where Bosco had gotten his strength and temper from ( Face also enjoyed the fact that he now had ammo to use against BA for teasing purposes, especially when he found out that Bosco still got referred to with his childish nickname of 'Scooter' by his aged mother.) Murdock's mother- as far as Face was aware- died when he was five, and the pilot never really mentioned his home life if he could help it. It was one of those things that Face felt Murdock didn't want to talk about, and Face respected his privacy in that.

Face himself had been considered an orphan for most of his life, being mostly raised by priests at the orphanage where he had spent his years up till he was old enough to hit out on his own- a childhood that had left him open, but not entirely convinced, about the concept of religion, and the practice of being able to wheedle toys and books out of the most sullen kids there, an art that had only gotten better as he aged. He'd always thought his father must have been dead, knowing that his mother- Samantha- was because she'd died not long after he was born , until it was revealed his father was the criminal- AJ Bancroft- that they were meant to be targeting for a job. That episode wasn't a happy part in Face's life , and it was a chapter he was quite comfortable putting past him. Having seen how the man acted so close at hand, pitiful and underhanded, had ruined his vision of his father that he had housed from an early age- the idea of a man kind and considerate, the sort of father kid's always dreamt of when they hadn't one of their own- , but it had reassured him somewhat that a man he was indefinitely closer to- Hannibal- was the sort of man Face would have wanted his father to be. The sort of father anybody would have wanted. Hannibal might not have been a father to Face, but he was everything else; the con-man's oldest friend out of their group, his mentor, confidante. As a leader, he was the best man for the job, and he commanded respect from the three of them that they gave willingly because they knew he deserved it.

And now he was in danger, and they were all concerned like hell for his safety.

BA was better at hiding it than either Face or Murdock, standing to the side with his arms folded and an intimidating mask upon his face, - as though he was just imagining tearing the bastards who might hurt his Colonel limb from limb- running his hand constantly along his Mohawk, an action that also acted as his tell in poker, a movement that told Face when the Sergeant was worried. In this case, Bosco's emotions had gone a few levels past just 'worried'. If there was one thing that could be said about the Sergeant's emotional states of anger, it was that he never did experiencing them in halves.

While BA was a tower of pent up anger however, Murdock was the exact opposite as usual, fidgeting in his seat with a myriad of expressions loping across his face. He was wearing another one of his t-shirts again, the ones that always made Face smile, and today's read the message; "This Space is Unoccupied". In the circumstances, Face couldn't find the energy to even smile at it. He could see the pilot wanted to say something, loudly and angrily and probably in a language none of them could understand- or maybe Face could strike lucky and Murdock would babble in one of the romance languages like Spanish or French, ones that Face actually knew and could speak fluently (most of it learned for the ability to be able to pick up exotic women) -but the turmoil of his thoughts and worry for Hannibal kept him relatively quiet. It was like he didn't quite know what to do with himself, and the Lieutenant watched him as he bit the skin of his lips as he frantically considered ways they could get the Colonel out of there, Face watching the original optimism of the thought displayed itself in a slight raise of the eyes , before the clear flaws presented themselves and his brow furrowed in irritation with himself. Face knew that Murdock, for all his madness, was a clever man when he put his mind to things- it often occurred to him that Murdock had skirted the line between genius and madness and had just fallen off on the wrong side-, and he knew that the pilot took it as a personal affront when he couldn't solve something he should have been able to. Normally, he wouldn't have taken it upon himself to consider in-depth ways of solving a problem, because by that time Hannibal would have considered, thought about and put together a plan, but it was Murdock's way of doing something- anything- to try and fix what was wrong.

Face knew that both were waiting for him to say something; in Hannibal's absence he was in charge, he was the planner and tactician, but he doubted his own abilities as he stared at the map of the compound Hannibal would still be in. He wasn't the planner, he was the con-artist, the pickpocket, the joker, who spend more time womanising his targets then actually trying to get what he wanted off them . He had, admittedly, planned before, managing to trap both Pike and Lynch in an idea sprung from a simple party game, but that wasn't before Murdock had been shot in the head and they'd all nearly been killed by the containers that they were standing on collapsing without warning. Face believed it a fluke that they'd all got out of that one alive at all, but now the burden was being placed on his shoulder again. And this time it was Hannibal's life at stake if they didn't get him out of there.

"Hell, Facey," Murdock seemed to have finally decided to say something. Somebody had to. "We need to get Colonel outta there." It was a statement of the obvious, but it did well to actually voice aloud what they were all thinking. Nobody had wanted to break the silence shrouding the tent.

"He knows that, you crazy fool" BA replied in his usual brusque way, glaring at the pilot as he looked down at the map before them. Murdock ignored him, as was usual, and jumped down from where he had been sitting on a pile of boxes filled with guns and grenades, moving closer to the table. He didn't speak any more, having made his point, just looked at Face as though waiting for a miracle to happen. He didn't deserve Murdock's trust, Face considered as he ran though options in his head. For a second, irritation flared as he wondered why it was just him who everyone was turning to for guidance, but then it went as soon as it came, leaving only the worry and some vestiges of guilt. Even though Murdock technically outranked him, Face was the one who was in charge. It was his job now to think of something, and he would damn well do it if it offered a chance of helping Hannibal. He owed it to the man not to lose it when he needed him the most.

"You have a plan, Face?" Bosco asked, unfolding his arms and placing his hands down on the table. Face didn't reply for a moment, considering all the facts at his disposal and blocking out the outside as of secondary importance for the time being. Usually when Hannibal was thinking, he just lit a cigar, and by the time it had burned down to the nub he would have a fully formed answer. Face didn't smoke- although he had once complained to Hannibal that for every cigar he smoked, Face smoked half-, so stayed silent, breathing out slowly as he forced his thoughts to lay themselves out before him like a pack of cards. The Ace of the pack, and the crux of the issue; Hannibal was being held in the military base of some obscure Nigerian Warlord no-one out of West Africa had heard of. They'd gotten that much information about Hannibal's condition from BA's hurried hacking of some of the uncoded signals they'd picked up coming from the base, Murdock translating enough for them to be assured that Hannibal was still alive. The Jack of Hearts and the not-so-simple answer to the problem; they needed to get Hannibal out. But how?

Face's mind was jump started now, and his head whirred with half formed plans and ideas. He mulled over a straight forward fire fight. No,that wouldn't work- the Nigerian had too many men with too many guns. No matter how strong they thought they were as a unit, no matter how clever, in the ocean of their lives there was always a bigger fish. They'd all have gotten slaughtered before they even got to Hannibal. Sneaking in? But there was still a problem of the deadlock doors, and Face knew that if they were sighted even for a moment, the doors would come down and they'd all be trapped inside. The safety of BA and Murdock were his responsibility now as well, and he had them to consider. Anything he did would be a risk upon them all, but he all knew that for the other two as well as him, the fact was irrelevant. Hannibal was their friend; everything else paled against the significance of that.

"Greater love hath no man than this," Face thought suddenly , the quote appearing from nowhere, the curse of living the first decade and a half of his life in a Catholic environment "that a man lay down his life for his friends" John 15:13, he recalled, and shuddered internally, hoping that whatever happened, it wouldn't come to that. Hannibal may have sacrificed himself to get Murdock and Face out, but up till now Face had stubbornly maintained that it was only a temporary situation, that Hannibal wouldn't actually be hurt, or even- God forbid- die, because of them.

"Face?" BA asked again, but Murdock shushed him loudly.

"Keep your mouth from going jibba-jabba for just a sec, huh? ." he said, not unkindly but directly, strangely using BA's turn of phrase to talk to the Sergeant. The pilot knew that Face never felt confident when he was in charge of the plan making; his own personal doubts and worries filtering into the process. Murdock had been there when Face had told him this truth the first time he'd had to go out on a limb alone, when Face had let the pilot in on what was bothering him. Murdock wasn't as unreceptive as they sometimes thought, and he had known immediately that something was bothering the second in command as he came up to the table on which the plans for trapping Lynch and Pike were being run through again and again. "We've always gotten back alive," Face had told the pilot honestly "the four of us, because of the old man. I'm not Hannibal" And without hesitation, Murdock had replied, saying exactly what Face needed to hear, even if he didn't know it. "Who has the most to lose on this, Face? Me. And I trust you." Face had never asked what Murdock had meant by him having the most to lose, knowing it to be one of those unspoken things that the pilot would never reveal to anybody, but the fact that Murdock trusted Face so implicitly gave him courage, gave him hope. " Facey's thinking, and all that revved up thinking juice he's got sloshing round his brain is needing to focus on this problem. You and your questions, they just distractin'"

Distraction. The word pounded in Face's head, neon flashing lights of a revelation behind his eyes. He knew that it was important, but it took a few more seconds of using his 'thinking juice' for the relevance to smash into him with the weight of BA's GMC. He glanced up at the two, his head raising slowly and smiled to himself with a trademark grin that had charmed many ladies and helped him look trustworthy in many scams.

Distraction.

"You lucky Face is here, madman. I would break your face"

"You can try, but I got ninja skills. An' I got Billy, who'd just go in and bite you real hard if I give the say-so"

"That fool-ass invisible dog o' yours? Hell man, you is crazy"

"Guys!" One word from Face silenced the two immediately, their petty squabbling forgotten, and they both turned to focus on the second in command.

"You got an idea, Facey?" Murdock said quietly, looking unsure. He was as concerned about Hannibal as the rest of them were, and Face recognised that sometimes the mental instability of his actions were used to mask up his own fears. Murdock was perhaps the member of the team Face was closest to, the pilot backing him up with a frightening tenacity and care that came only from the closest of friends. Murdock was nothing if not loyal to his core, and through their closeness, Face came some way to understanding the strange world of Howlin' Mad Murdock. The pilot made him laugh , fed him kerosene flavoured burgers and his own special variations on recipes that should have killed him but didn't- although he still remembered getting some temporary Bell's palsy from Murdock's 'special sauce'- , quoted pop culture and sang loudly and out of tune for the mere reason that Face looked down about something .Their friendship was cemented from the day Murdock set Face's arm alight, and had survived many scams and cons together. Face wouldn't have wanted a saner friend than Murdock, and he knew that in his own way the pilot was grateful for Face giving him a chance. He supposed that it was hard for Murdock to make friends being how he was, and asides from Hannibal, Face was the only one who was never really that concerned by Murdock's quirks. He let the pilot watch cartoons, didn't mock his outbursts but often responded in turn just as crazily, and one night when Murdock got angry with BA constantly calling him a 'crazy fool' , cursing at the Sergeant in German ( the outburst the result of too many long days trapped in one place with the man) Face responded in the same language, helping him calm down using broken phrases of German he'd attempted to learn from the pilot. Murdock appreciated his friendship, trusted Face with his life, and that was never more evident than it was now. Face may have been a liar and a con-man, but he would never lie to Murdock, would never deliberately hurt him. Whatever Face said, Murdock would go along with it if they had a chance to save Hannibal, regardless of any safety issues. They were a team. Each member was probably mad in his own right to have survived in their group so long.

Face studied Murdock and BA, the smile still evident on his face as thoughts whirred in his head, slotting the pieces of the plan together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"I don't have an idea, Murdock. I got one better than that" he grinned and winked at the other two "I got a plan"

AN/-Series References, borrowed from Frank Lupo and Stephen J. Cannell : Episode's 'Family Reunion', 'Moving Targets' and 'Lease with an Option to Die'

As an off topic comment, I thoroughly recommend a story in the TV/A-Team section by Reckless. The story is called 'Through the Valley of Clichés', and it pokes playful fun at all the overused plot devices in the A-Team hurt/comfort genre; e.g. Kidnap/Torture of a team member (and yeah, I'm guilty as charged :-)), miracle medical cures, etc. Some of the jokes are strictly TV-canon, like references to Maggie Sullivan/Dougie Kyle (ubervillian :-)) and 'Nam, but regardless, it's a great read for any A-Team fan. It also contains Mary Sue bashing, which is enough to keep anyone happy. :-)